One Last Venture
by wolfling
Summary: Englehorn tries to start again. But everything, in time, has its own consequences.
1. Chapter One

wolfling: major rewrite. I suppose, just like Englehorn, I've started again. Annoying brain-malfunction blankthough, do they ever mention Englehorn's first name?

_**Disclaimer: **well…thinking about it, it wouldn't be fanfiction if I owned it, would it?_

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**Chapter One**

To Captain Englehorn, owning a boat was the greatest freedom a man could have. With a boat, you could sail away from your problems and indulge in everything that the open sea had to offer. Open skies and endless escape.

Of course, the sea had its problems too. Storms, sharks, invisible crops of rocks.

Mysterious islands containing beasts unseen for very good reasons.

He didn't particularly enjoy the thought of that last voyage. Indeed, afterwards he had almost sworn to himself that he would leave the sea for as long a time as possible, putting the heavily stressed Venture into a shipyard for three months before his desire for open water consumed him again, and he once more took the helm of The Venture as captain.

It hadn't been much of a confidence boost when he discovered that only five people from his original crew had turned up, thus causing him to delay the departure date and have a small nervous breakdown in his Ready Room, during which he broke a chair on a wall and got splinters in his thumb.

Facing his somewhat depleted crew again; he took them on board, and through various connections managed to hire at least thirty more men before the ship was scheduled to leave.

Anyone with vague links to the film industry was turned away immediately.

Sighing as he kept the ship steady at the helm, he remembered how…strange it was to have had to replace such memorable people as Lumpy and Choy. And, of course, Mister Hayes.

But to be honest, Mister Hayes couldn't really be replaced, none of them could. He'd become accustomed to seeing them- Lumpy, gutting fish he never saw in his food, Choy tending to animals and swearing at them in foreign languages.

Mister Hayes, spending considerable silences with his Captain on the bridge, knowing that there was no need to talk and scuttling around the ship with Jimmy in his spare time. It seemed unthinkable that the man had gone, and Englehorn had to admit, he was almost looking for him that first day back at the docks.

Not that his replacements weren't capable. He'd used Scruffy, an older member of the original crew to serve as a sort of Mister Hayes. Scruffy was, though, constantly on edge in his presence. He looked oddly out of place on the bridge, attempting to fill the shoes of a leviathan man.

He was trying though. As was his new Chef, a young Liverpudlian woman, with a near awful Scouse accent which was the constant amusement of many a crewman. Including himself. She could cook a good meal though, even if he wasn't necessarily used to having more than cold, questionable stew for dinner after a variably long day.

He'd decided that live animal capture, although it was their forte, was too messy, took too long, and that Chloroform was becoming too expensive. They used to be the best, which had given the Captain pride, but he'd soon realised that it wasn't worth the expense-or the stench.

What they did do get money was ship furniture and other goods from place to place. Someone had said 'why not people'. Why not people indeed. People infuriated Englehorn; he'd quite had enough of shipping people, most of which enjoyed complaining, from place to place.

Besides, more people meant more polite manners and less smoking. Not good.

He relinquished the helm to Scruffy, and walked out onto the deck alone. He watched the sun set below the dark clouds, giving way to the moon in the battle for rule over the skies.

Englehorn gazed out at the sea, and smiled with pride. Freedom truly was a b-

THUMP.

THUMP.

THUMP.

"What's that?"

"It's not a…monster is it?"

"Monsters don't exist."

Must have been a new crewmember. Broken at an inconvenient time from his silent reverie, Englehorn went over to the small crowd of people around the lifeboat and angrily ripped back the tarpaulin covering it.

"Captain!"

Oh god.

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wolfling: yeah...it's a bit waffly isn't it? For some reason, I've always seen Englehorn as...rough but philosophical. Constructive Criticism would be appreciated. Thanks to the reviewers of the last time this was posted, Queen Of The Badgers, Kymmethy and smartykid.


	2. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two-**

Tapping his fingers on the old wooden table, Captain Englehorn briefly remembered that he had sworn to strangle Denham the next time he saw him.

"What is it that you want?" asked the sea captain of the slightly dishevelled looking director.

"I want to film a new movie."

Englehorn visibly twitched and leaned dangerously closer to the other man. He was aware that Jimmy was standing guard by the door, looking on anxiously.

"Do you really think that I would let you back on my ship, to film another haphazard movie, and lead more of my good crew to their gruesome and untimely deaths?"

Denham swallowed "Well, no. But this is an amazing opportunity! It's a documentary on ship life! Every country in the world will know about The Venture-greatest ship to sail the seven seas!"

"I don't _want_ everyone to know who we are! Enough fanatic vegetarians come screaming at my door in every port! I am happy with our anonymity, now hop into a longboat with my second in command before I forcibly remove you from this ship!" Tapping the ash from his cigarette he proceeded furiously towards the door.

"Look, Englehorn, you can't do that," worried, Denham stood and put a hand on the taller mans shoulder.

"Stop touching me. Get out."

"Englehorn-."

"Get. Out."

Taking this as a signal to leave as fast as they could, Jimmy and Scruffy apprehended the director and dragged him out of the room before their captain exploded.

Dumping him roughly into a lifeboat, Scruffy quickly set off into open water, and back towards the fading lights of the last port.

The crew scarpered as the Captain stormed angrily onto the deck, still smoking, and thundered his way down into the ship. Quickly, everyone made sure that everything he may pass was picture perfect, that everyone was working, and that no one was caught unawares by him.

To be honest though, Englehorn didn't know where he was going. For all the freedom it gave a man, a ship didn't have many unobvious places to hide in. So the man just kept walking, down, down, down, down, through small passages and past working crewmen. Eventually he came to an agonising stop in the middle of a passageway. He clenched his fists and breathed heavily. The anger wasn't going to go away unless he finally managed to let loose on something, _someone_. Angrily he punched open the nearest door, just to check if anyone was doing anything whatsoever wrong, even having undone laces, that would be enough for him to have a legitimate excuse for shouting at something.

No one was doing anything even remotely wrong. But mainly, this just angered him further, so he kept crashing down, crewmen staying tucked away, absorbed in their work if only to avoid him.

He ended up in the Galley after a while, where Chef appeared to be chopping vegetables.

The door swung shut as a wary crewman darted out of view.

Chef was now nervous. The apparently very angry Captain, who flew off the handle at anything when he was in such a rage as this, was standing, still but moving nonetheless in front of the door into the Galley.

She couldn't see his face; he had his back to her.

Nervously, Chef turned off the cooker and slipped after the crewman. Unfortunately, the Captain noticed, and decided that giving her a decent shouting for abandoning herduties should calm him down.

Jimmy crept back into the meeting room. A chair had been kicked over. A bottle of beer had been left, opened and half drunk on the table. The lid lay beside it, andcontrary to before, the room was very still.

He had been sure that Mr Denham had a briefcase with him. After a moment, he spied it tucked under the table, and snuck it back to his quarters. It didn't seem that the director had noticed it was missing, and if he had then it was just too late.

Peering around to see if he'd been followed, Jimmy prised open the briefcase.

Finders keepers.

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wolfling: _Well, there you go. Erg. Any suggestions for fixing Englehorn's little...spat-scene would be much appreciated._


	3. Chapter Three

wolfling: Big thanks to all reviewers. At last, the puzzle pieces are in line, and my mystery is being set in motion!

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Jimmy entered the Galley and slumped down into a chair.

"I've got a problem."

She came out of the kitchen and sat opposite him, with one bowl full of potatoes and an old newspaper with peelings on it. She spread the paper out between them, and handed him a potato peeler.

"Out with it then."

He could tell her, couldn't he? Chef was one of those listening types. She paid attention to little things.

So didn't that mean that if he lied, she would see straight through him?

He opened his mouth, but paused, and started again

"Well," he began, and then she frowned and reached over to turn the potato peeler the right way round in his hand. "I've heard that the captain wants to ditch me from the ship."

What? What kind of lame replacement for the truth was that? Jimmy felt he was losing his edge.

"Why do you think that?" she looked up whilst peeling, taking another potato from the bowl and leaving the skins on the paper.

"What are you making here anyway?"

"Cheese and potato bake with that leftoverham from last night. Answer the question."

"I heard Scruffy talking about how the Captain had said something about it."

She sighed, "You know Scruffy never gives any reliable information. Besides, the Captain wouldn't chuck anyone, the crews already too small as it is."

"There's a first time for everything! I don't want to go, where would I go?"

"You're a young lad Jimmy, I think you'd find another job just fine."

"But I wouldn't know how to survive!"

"It'll be easy Jimmy. Few jobs need an education. You could find a job helping out in a restaurant or working the docks."

He pouted a little bit and she kept peeling "Here. I doubt they're going to chuck you. It's weird, but I get the feeling that the Captain's got a soft spot for you. He's used to you being around, be weird if you weren't. I don't know what happened on the last voyage; from the sounds of it I don't think I want to. But still, you and him were there. Lost someone in common. They won't chuck you, Jimmy. You're a part of this ship."

Jimmy beamed at her, and cut his finger with the potato peeler.

Chef gave him an 'I knew that would happen' look and rose as the kettle started whistling loudly, and walked into the kitchen to pour it into two mugs. As she did so, she noticed something rather odd. There was a knife stuck in the wall. With blood on it.

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wolfling: Chapter Four up...tomorrow...

con-crit appreciated.


	4. Chapter Four

wolfling: trying to force away the sudden collapse in writing ability comes miraculously up with…another chapter :)

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"You found a knife in the kitchen? Oh, excellent work Chef."

Englehorn leaned sceptically over the table in the room. Chef half scowled "It was in the _wall_ Captain. It had blood on it."

"So? Maybe Jimmy was messing around in there again."

"Jimmy's not been messing around. Sir, I honestly think that there's something going on here. I've been in the Galley practically all day; I went out of the room. Talked to Jimmy, and then when I went back in, it was there. It still is, I haven't moved it."

"Why not?"

"Er," she seemed rather sheepish about it. Englehorn sensed this, and took immense pleasure in it.

"Well, Chef? I hope you know that as Captain of this ship, dishonesty to me could get you thrown forcibly from it."

"I was ah…" she went a little red and diverted her gaze "I was scared, Sir."

"Scared of what?"

"Well, people have been saying this ship's gone through some pretty mucky stuff! I'm just worried s'all…"

Englehorn grinned subtly.

"I doubt that a fifty-foot gorilla is going to try and attack you if you remove a knife from the wall."

He dismissed her before she could start talking again, and she walked out of the room, feeling doubtfully anxious. The morning sky was tinted a pink-orange, and birds swooped and dived in the glowing sky.

Men were already at work on the ship, securing knots and scrubbing decks. She stepped below deck, and steeling all her confidence, took a deep breath, in and out, trying to expel the demons of fear in order that she might at last step forward.

She entered the galley; the ship rocked gently, a motion she had only just become aware of. It was as if she had never been in the room before, although she spent most her present life in it, cleaning it, working in it, spending the never-ending maritime days in it.

She looked out of the small porthole. Watched the open sea glimmer in the sun, and stepped forward into the kitchen area itself.

The knife was still stuck fast in the wall. It leered at her, teased her childish actions.

It was amazing what fear and suspicion could do to an otherwise perfectly balanced person.

She went forward to take it out of the wall, hand outstretched, but stopped and breathed for a moment.

Her fingers wrapped around the wooden handle, and she felt the painted, chipping and worn wood beneath her fingers.

She took another breath and then sighed.

She really was making a big deal out of nothing wasn't she?

She then proceeded to yank the knife from the wall, but as soon as she did something didn't really feel quite…right…

A strange fear came creeping slowly over her, and for a few brief moments, she stood with her eyes scrunched shut, waiting for something to happen, something bad, something horrible…and possibly fatal.

Nothing did, but she fell sharply backwards with a yelp when she opened her eyes to find Jimmy in front of her.

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wolfling: Thanks to the reviewers of the last chapter, I'd list you all, but I'm afraid of spelling the names incorrectly, so just a big thanks :)


	5. Chapter Five

**Chapter Five**

She sighed, frustrated, as she caught herself against the edge of the counter. Annoyed she asked "What?" bitingly.

Jimmy didn't notice-he was far too worried.

"Are your hands shaking?"

"I-No-Chef," his voice appeared to be quivering, he was speaking more urgently than usual and his eyes were darting about the room.

"What is it, Jimmy?"

"I did something bad," she looked straight at her. His eyes appeared to be slightly dilated.

"What did you do Jimmy?" he looked away again, and then back to her, she put a hand on his forearm in an attempt to calm him.

"Mr Denham-Briefcase-Didn't mean to-opened it, but-but-I shouldn't have opened it! Why did I open it!"

"What was in the briefcase, Jimmy?" she asked him gently, and he looked at her, horror in his eyes.

"Bad. Stuff."

"What kind of bad stuff?"

He was leaning against her, holding onto her arms and breathing heavily "Island. Things from the island."

She shook him as his eyes glazed over and rolled shut "Jimmy! Jimmy, what island? Don't-Jimmy!"

He collapsed against her, slumped against her slightly smaller form, and she realised that the boy was actually quite heavy. Like a gigantic bag of warm flour or something.

After looking around for a place to put him, she dragged the boy into the main room with some difficulty and lumped him onto the table. He was limp, and his skin was clammy, but he was alive.

She looked at him, sighed and took his hat off for him, placing it on the table beside the boy.

Having rushed up to the bridge, she related the story to Scruffy, who hurried back down to the galley with her, and called another, bulkier man to come and lift the boy to his quarters.

Once the aggravating noise of Scruffy telling the bulkier man exactly how to set the boy down and what to do if he woke up or died as if he were his mother had dissipated, Chef picked up Jimmy's hat and put it on a hook on the wall, before proceeding almost defiantly into her kitchen.

Taking up a knife she felt annoyed at herself for thinking there was some 'ghost' or another creeping around and sticking knives in walls.

Suspicious as it was, ghosts didn't exist.

Unfortunately, she was completely unaware that someone begged to differ with her on that point.

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wolfling: I apologise profusely for the fact that it took me so long to update. I also apologise for the fact that, hell, this is a boringly cheesychapter. Next one's more fun though : P


	6. Chapter Six

**wolfling: **I should be jailed for reviewer neglect. And possibly pants fic, but oh well.

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**Chapter Six**

Englehorn swirled his whisky. The next destination on the map was Calais. It just so happened that he knew a barman there who enjoyed giving old sea captains free drinks. He couldn't wait to indulge in that little perk of not being all too personable.

Three wardrobes, four dressers, and ten dining tables were being escorted for some new hotel that had been set up in what was, admittedly, a less than posh area.

He looked down at the book he had left open on the table.

'Supernatural Activity'

He couldn't believe he was stooping to this level.

With a sigh, he flicked through the pages. So many crewmembers had been complaining of seeing strange things that some investigation had to be done. It disturbed him that it hadn't started with Chef either. Before that, people saying that they had heard snatches of garbled speech, as if in another language. People claiming to have seen unrecognisable, dark skinned creatures wandering about the ship.

Recently, one man had claimed that he was cleaning the hold when he was attacked by a tiger, which had then faded away into thin air. He had demanded to be allowed to leave the Venture in the next port.

It worried and annoyed Englehorn. It worried him because of the chance that there might be something on the ship. It annoyed him that he was buying into the onboard hush and panic, and the simple fact that these things kept happening to him.

Effing Island.

The other book open on the table was a comprehensive book of diseases, and, curiously, a book about potatoes. You see, it had been chef who had helpfully suggested when she served him his dinner that when a person ate a green potato, it often resulted in the same sort of symptoms which Jimmy was currently suffering from.

She had then said 'perhaps it's some kind of possession he's going through, or something', at which point he had snatched his plate from her and stormed off up the stairs.

He glanced at the other book for a moment. The diseases were mostly obscure, and ranged from ear-maggots to how to amputate a leg infected with gangrene. Nothing about fainting, or fevers, or psychotic somnambulant shouting.

Scruffy entered the room and stood at the door nervously.

"Well?"

"Sir, he's not getting any better."

Englehorn sighed, Scruffy could only see his shoulders, clothed in white and blue stripes, the shape of a hat masking the back of the mans head.

"What have you been giving him?"

"Chef has been sending us up some herbal medicine, but aside from that we've got nothing that would help him. We've settled him; he's sleeping peacefully now. But…well. You know."

No he didn't, he didn't know, and this annoyed him greatly.

"Where is he?"

"In his quarters. Although, we've given him some extra sheets, soft ones. In pastels, won't alarm him when he wakes. Er…" Scruffy fidgeted "Chef will send dinner up in a few minutes."

"Tell her I don't want it."

"Sir-."

"That's an order. Go."

Scruffy muttered something weakly and left.

A while later, feeling hungry and walking along to the Galley, Englehorn heard a loud shout and great crashing.

He chased after the sound, until he reached the open door to Jimmy's cabin.

The boy was sitting bolt upright in bed, hair stuck with cold sweat to his head, a great fear dashing through his eyes and his hands wrenched tight into the sheets.

"It's not real! It's not real!"

"What's not real?" Scruffy was leaned over the boy in a sort of awkwardly worried way, dabbing randomly at Jimmy's forehead and only managing to panic the boy even more.

"Get off me!"

Englehorn entered sternly "Leave him alone, Scruffy. Get back to the bridge."

Scruffy left looking anxious, and Englehorn took his chair, leaning back in it. Jimmy looked at him, hands still writhing in the bed sheets, eyes still wide open and bloodshot, but somewhat calmer.

"Hello Skipper," he said in monotone.

"Hello, Jimmy."

For a moment, there was silence. Jimmy, still shaking, looking around the room with sharp turns of his head and then said very quietly "It wasn't real, was it Skipper?"

"I wouldn't know."

"But-but…you _always_ know, Skipper."

"I'm afraid I don't this time. What was it, exactly?"

Jimmy looked at his writhing hands and smiled and laughed weakly "No I expect that it wasn't real," he smiled artificially and said, "He's dead. It wasn't real."

"Well hardly, if he's dead."

Jimmy laughed again, weakly, but still louder than before "Of course not. Old Mister Hayes. He's dead. He's dead."

Englehorn stood as the artificial beam faded from the boys face "Yes he is. But, if you ever see him again, you tell me. Now get dressed. Go for a walk."

Smiling again, Jimmy swung his legs out of bed as the Skipper left. Weakly, he called after him "Thank you, Skipper."

Englehorn heard it only vaguely, but allowed himself to smile at the comment.


End file.
